


what happens at the tour...

by crystalcities



Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcities/pseuds/crystalcities
Summary: Wout wins a stage. Mathieu likes it. Laurens is concerned.





	what happens at the tour...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liefde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liefde/gifts).



> This isn’t part of the main series because... um... I have other plans for them that are less fun. But I can’t resist writing a fun Tour fic after Wout’s stage win. Thank you for the extra motivation <3
> 
> I’m assuming Wout and Laurens are rooming together since they’re both Belgian debutants in the Tour. But I'm just making it up, like I made up everything else :p

The team’s in a celebratory mood at dinner. It’s been a dream of a week in the Tour for Team Jumbo-Visma, winning stages and various classifications. They finished the week on a high with a fourth stage win, Wout winning a sprint against the likes of Elia Viviani, Caleb Ewan and Peter Sagan. The team chef’s prepared special dessert and since it’s a rest day tomorrow the DS even allowed them extra champagne, so everyone was feeling happy and relaxed.

Well... Except for Wout. Laurens’s been watching him all day since the end of the stage and Something’s Not Right. He’s had a lot of time to observe Wout during the week since they’re rooming together. Normally Wout’s always in good spirits even though they’re both suffering as Tour debutants, and Laurens thought he should be extra happy today about the stage win. But, while he’s cordial and did all his post race obligations with a smile he just seemed distracted somehow.

After watching Wout check his phone under the table for the 37th time since dinner started and looking distressed each time Laurens couldn’t deal with it anymore. If something was wrong, surely he’d have to cheer him up somehow. He elbowed Wout hard in the ribs.

“Wout! What’s more interesting than celebrating with your teammates? Come on, it’s your first stage win!”

“What? Uh-” Wout spluttered, dropping his phone on the floor. Laurens tried to pick it up for him but Wout jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking the table over to get to it first. The party around them stopped and everybody stared at Wout and Laurens. Wout’s phone vibrated again, the buzz loud and clear in the silence.

“Uh- Sorry, I think I’m tired... I’m going to excuse myself for the evening,” Wout said quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket and heading to the exit. And was he getting ill after a hard week of racing, because he’s looking a bit red?

A chorus of “stay!”, “have another drink!”, and “give us a speech!” couldn’t keep Wout in the dining room. Laurens promised himself to definitely check in on him later, but... he’s going to eat another piece of cake.

* * *

Wout barely rounded the corner of the hallway before his phone buzzed again, this time insistently with an incoming call.

“Please! I’m at team dinner!” Wout whispered into it.

“It’s 8:30pm. You’ve been telling me ‘later’ all day,” Mathieu drawled on the other side of the line.

“There’s so much happening at the Tour. I haven’t had any free time since the stage finish,” Wout replied. He hit the elevator button, harder than he meant to. A soigneur passed by, on his way to the toilet, and looked quizzically at Wout. Wout determinedly did not look at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Especially not as a stage winner.”

Wout could imagine the smile Mathieu had on his face and it’s making him crazy. That, and the pictures Mathieu had been texting him. He hit the button again. This hotel had four storeys. Why did calling an elevator take so long?

“It sounds quiet over there. Are you lying to me about team dinner? I’m-”

“One second! And please, never text me those pictures during the day, please!”

“But-”

“I’ll call you back in a minute!”

* * *

Seemingly an eternity later Wout was back in his room. His room that he shared with Laurens, he meant. He locked it from the inside and hit his recent call list. On second thought, he hit the FaceTime button instead. Mathieu picked up immediately. His hair was messed up and he appeared to be lying in bed, shirtless.

“Hey. Are you alone?”

“Yeah,” Wout showed him the room.

“Good. No special treatment for a stage winner?” Mathieu was smiling.

“Maybe after I win a few more stages,” Wout teased back.

“Mmm.” God, Mathieu was so adorable. Wout thought they’re used to being apart with their very different race programmes but it’s still hard with a three-week Grand Tour. Other riders had their significant others visit at the Tour but Mathieu couldn’t possibly do that, even if his own schedule allowed.

“Do you want to know what I’ve been doing?”

“I think I might have an idea,” Wout said, settling in bed. He thought about the pictures Mathieu sent earlier that he definitely shouldn’t have looked at during team dinner. His cock twitched in his jeans.

“I thought about you the whole time.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“About how I’ve always wanted to sleep with a stage winner in the Tour.”

“So anyone would do?”

“Only Belgian ones riding their first Tour.”

“I guess I need to take advantage of it for the next year.”

“You better do it while you can.”

Mathieu’s image on the screen blurred in movement for a few seconds, then he came back with a slightly serious expression that Wout knew too well. “Are you touching yourself again?”

Mathieu flipped the camera around to show his hand in his underwear.

“Not my fault that you turn me on so much,” said Mathieu. His voice dropped a register: “If I’m at the Tour with you, I’d jump you right after the finish.” He showed Wout how his hand was moving slowly over himself, before pointing the phone at his face again. He’s breathing slowly, and his blue eyes were getting darker and unfocused. Wout swallowed. His cock was starting to swell nicely. He put a hand on top of his fly, just resting his thumb over the zipper for now.

“I didn’t know you’re turned on by a sweaty and dirty rider.”

“A sweaty and dirty stage winner. Maybe we can use one of those double showers on the bus. I’ll let you fuck me in there- or if you’re too exhausted I’ll sit on your lap in the back.”

“You’re very inappropriate,” Wout slid his zipper down and slipped a hand inside.

“I’ll be expecting you so I’ll be all ready- While you’re waiting for the photo finish I’d be preparing myself-”

There’s more movement on Mathieu’s side as he pushed down his underwear, rolled onto his front and reached a hand behind. Wout knew the moment he breached himself from the small noise he made.

“I’ll get myself all slick and open, so-” he gasped.

“Yeah, Mathieu, show me,” Wout squeezed himself. Mathieu was looking flushed, and he licked his lips, before he switched the screen to what he’s doing to himself.

“So good, Wout- I’ll be ready, and I’ll strip you out of your kit. I’ll suck your cock to get you hard- Not that you won’t be already, you’re so excited to see me-” Mathieu said, haltingly, between gasps. Wout thought about Mathieu’s lips, his warm mouth and his tongue that was so devilishly skilled.

“Fuck- Go on,” Wout stroked himself faster.

“You’re going to fuck me in that shower, and you’re going to be so surprised that I’m already dripping slick when you touch me there, ah-”

“Mathieu, you’re so hot,” Wout bit back a moan.

“We’ll have to be quick- I want to see you touch yourself- because your teammates are going to be waiting- and people are going to look for you for the podium-”

Wout could only hear Mathieu’s voice and slick noises on the phone. The screen’s showing the ceiling in Mathieu’s room, whatever he’s doing he’s too busy to point the phone properly at himself.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Mathieu’s face came back on the screen, and he’s looking wrecked.

“I’m- I’m fucking a pillow and I’m fingering myself, ah- But we still have to be quick, I love it that way- when you fuck me hard. It feels so good. You’re so good. I’m getting so wet,” Mathieu panted.

“Mathieu, touch yourself and lick your hand,” Fuck, Wout was the one who wanted to taste him. He’s always loved how much he leaked when he’s turned on. Mathieu obeyed, taking out his fingers to give himself a long stroke, gathering the fluids leaking from him at the tip. He closed his eyes as he licked a long stripe up his palm and sucked his fingers. _God._

“I want you to fuck me, so hard, so good inside me, Wout, I-”

“What are people going to say when they see you later, all fucked out?”

“Nothing- Everyone knows I’m yours.” Mathieu replied immediately. Wout’s heart skipped a beat.

“You- my god-” Wout’s fucking his fist hard, groaning as his entire body seemed to tense up. He thought about all the times he’s been with Mathieu, the way his body felt, so warm and so tight, and all the little twitches and noises he made. There’s nobody like him.

“Wout, fuck- I miss you. I- I love you,” Mathieu made a choked-off sound. “I’m going to come-”

Wout’s jerking himself brutally fast, and then he’s coming too. On the other side of the line Mathieu’s gone quiet and he could only hear his uneven breathing.

“Mathieu, I love-”

* * *

Laurens paced outside his room. He meant to check in on Wout, but he seemed to have left his key somewhere. Wout usually kept the door propped open if Laurens wasn’t back yet, knowing that he probably forgot his key again, but something must be really wrong because today it’s locked. He knocked a few times but there’s no response.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures, he thought fuzzily, taking out a credit card. He slid it between the door and the doorframe and wiggled it back and forth. Bingo! He felt the door unlatch and he pushed it open.

“Oh, shit!”

Wout scrambled around in his side of the room, covering himself with a sheet. He’s on the phone with somebody. The room had an unmistakable scent of... sex...

“Fuck,” Wout swore, striding past a shocked Laurens into the shower.

“Uh- It’s okay,” Laurens called towards the closed bathroom door, after a minute. Silence. “Maybe just- let me know next time and I’ll clear out for a bit?”

More silence. Laurens fidgeted. In the meantime Wout’s phone lit up with notifications and Laurens couldn’t not pay attention to it:

> _Mathieu van der Poel: did u get caught?_  
>  _Mathieu van der Poel: that was fun, let’s do it again ;)_  
>  _Mathieu van der Poel: ily xx_

“Holy shit,” it’s Laurens’s turn to swear, more out of surprise than anything. It’d probably be a big scandal if the public knew about this but just between him and Wout and this room, once he’d gotten over the surprise he could see why they’d be together, and it's even kind of sweet? He tried to clear his head and thought about what he’s going to say, whenever Wout decided he’s ready to get out of the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> I was really hoping to have some fun comments to make about today’s ITT but I hope Wout is okay, the crash looks bad :(


End file.
